Dear Nola,\r\n\r\nI never knew you before this tragedy. I never knew you serene and sluggish and pristene. When I first saw you it was night, and I was shooting through the swamps, with my best friend sitting next to me. I was bringing him home. We were both shaking. \r\n\r\nWe had most recently stopped just off I10 for gas. We filled the tank, then strapped two full reserve tanks to the rack. Overhead, the gas station\'s tall sign was shattered, and tilted at a threatening angle. Once we passed through your levees and got off the the Vieux Carre exit, your streets were dark piles of shattered manmade things. It was hard to tell where we were. We drove slowly, shaken. But then an avenue of magnificent trees was there, though littered, and a gate, and my best friend\'s tone went from frightened despair to anxious excitement--comparitive relief. \"This is where I live!\" he said. He could have been speaking to everyone; it sounded like an affirmation rather than an explanation.\r\n\r\nWe parked, and walked, unlocked the gate. That was when you first glanced my way; I don\'t think you saw me, but I saw you. There was a sudden, thick waft of night blooming jasmine in the air, the groan of raud iron, and a rustle of deep green, waxy foliage which dwarfed me. I could hardly see for a moment I was so taken aback. We stepped into the courtyard amid slate walks, bananna trees, and glowing-white greek statues. I was speechless. Your french doors were peering out through just recently unlocked storm shutters. Overhead, iron lace caught the faint glint of light in the air. I was dreaming--this was Eden.\r\n\r\nIn the morning, the sun rose on a mixed scene: trash removal, stench, broken bits of human life everywhere amidst your streets. And then, pervading, forcing its way between boarded and shuttered openings, seeping out of everything: intense, magnificent, joyful life. The heart of your old city, comparitively untouched, kept right on beating despite you having lost your limbs. It was the heart beat of a zydeco band, the heartbeat of people dancing in the streets on Burbon, the bustle at du Monde where a jazz musician rumbled and swooned out \"it\'s a wonderful world\" from the banquette, or mule hoves on pavement, drivers above warmly heckling pedestrians, mule, and riders alike. Touchdown Jesus (you call him what??, I had exclaimed) loomed both amusing and inspiring above us while we greeted peddlars at Jackson Square. We ate your po boys and seafood. But what cemented this blooming love; what made me decide that I needed to call this place home, was that second line.\r\n\r\nWe heard your tuba and brass and squealing joy floating over a few blocks and I was filled instantaneously! My face changed, I forgot I was in public, and I lept straight up, turned and ran toward it. It was as though that was a sound my heart had been waiting patiently for my entire life, then been caught off guard when it had finally come. I actually squealed and laughed on the verge of tears as I ran full-tilt, and I think you were running beside me. And two blocks later, there they were, all dancing and bopping and waving bar napkins rythmically overhead. And there were national guardsmen with beads around their necks, smiling--dancing a little, too. And we sang. And one of your store signs hung dizzy-crooked overhead. \r\n\r\nLater, my best friend climbed on my shoulders, and we set it back in place on its hook for you. \r\n\r\nI fell in love with you in this hospital bed, and you inexplicably returned my love. But my dearest, I have to tell you some bad news. The doctors are saying they may refuse care. They might put you out and not operate. And I want to scream and put their eyes out for even JOKING! Thay are joking--right love?? But no, they\'re saying you\'re too much of an inconvenience; that you only had yourself to blame for getting sick and suffering this; they\'re saying it\'s too costly to cure. I can only immagine what this means for your children, sisters and brothers, nieces, grandchildren; for the people who have lived and died with you for so long.\r\n\r\nI\'m trying to tell them, love. I\'m trying to tell all the people who have never met you; who don\'t know you, what you\'re like. I made this place online cause I thought people who knew you longer than I do might be able to say it better. But this is my letter, and I\'m humbly putting it forward in hopes to console you.\r\n\r\nI\'ll be back at the end of the month. Please hold out for me. I love you and miss you terribly.\r\n\r\nYours,\r\nAri\r\n\r\n(See more love letters to New Orleans at http://www.livejournal.com/community/dearnola/ )